


Best Thing He's Ever Seen

by buttery_bee_27



Series: Draco and Harry Kink Party [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Harry Potter, Breeding Kink, Checking in, Choking, Collars, Consensual Sex, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Degradation, Desk Sex, Dom Draco Malfoy, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Drarry, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fuck JKR, Gay, Gay Sex, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hickeys, Humiliation, Kissing, Love, M/M, Mentions of consensual non-consent, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Minor SPH (small penis humiliation), Multiple Orgasms, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Pre-negotiated Consent, Presents, Proper BDSM Etiquette, Rough Kissing, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sub Harry Potter, Sweet, Top Draco Malfoy, Trans Character, Trans Harry Potter, Trans Male Character, Use of "Cunt", Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, domesticity kink, gaslighting kink, manipulation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttery_bee_27/pseuds/buttery_bee_27
Summary: In which Harry is at work, Draco is SUPPOSED to be at work, and beautiful, real sex ensues. Topped off with lots of fluff.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Draco and Harry Kink Party [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105925
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	Best Thing He's Ever Seen

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely people! 
> 
> I'm glad you decided to click on this. Perhaps you're here because you enjoyed part 1 of this series, and perhaps you're here for other reasons, but I'm glad to have you. Just a few things: read the tags! And— main potential-triggers in this fic: a bit of sex-related stress based on the element of surprise; use of the word "cunt" when referring to transmasc genitalia (as well as describing a transmasc person's dick as small); and mentions of transmasc pregnancy (as a fantasy).
> 
> For more information, see the notes from High-Maintenance, part 1 of this series. Ideally you read High-Maintenance before this one, but this can also be read alone. I take responsibility for any errors, though I hope there are none. Hope you enjoy!

“Seriously?”

Harry had just picked up his quill to grade the last stack of the written portion of Auror-trainee final exams when a flash of paper above his desk caught his eye. He grumbled.

This was the third interdepartmental memo in half an hour, it seemed, and Harry plucked the little plane from the air with irritation. The first had been from someone in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, asking if a small Auror squad could be put together as backup for an investigation of a hub of illegal beast trading. The second, from Hermione, discussing when the best time would be to hold the ceremony for the MACUSA ambassadors. And, the third:

He began to unfold it, vexed, absently noting that it was on plain parchment rather than the signature purple used by the Ministry. So, _not_ a normal memo — at least that served for some variety. He opened it, and fondness overcame his annoyance as he saw Molly Weasley’s familiar scrawl, most likely owled to the M.O.M. mailroom and then sent to him. Harry presumed this was in response to his RSVP to the annual Weasley gathering invitation.

 _Harry, dear,_ it read, _Arthur and I were delighted to hear that you and Draco will be attending. Bill is abroad, as you know, but Fleur and Dominique will be there. They will be thrilled to see you too, I’m sure. Would you mind asking Draco to make his famous sweet potato casserole to bring? Ginny’s little ones have been incessantly pestering me for some, but something about his puts mine to shame. Looking forward to seeing you and Draco soon! — Much love, Molly ♡_

And there was a postscript too, following the loopy signature, stating that Ginny’s children were to be given credit for the drawings at the bottom of the note: a sloppily drawn dragon, rainbow, and something that appeared to be a crup with long, bowtruckle-like fingers for legs. Upon reading the brief description penned by Molly, for the children's writing was still a work in progress, he discovered that what he’d believed to be a crup was actually a nundu. 

Harry grinned as he read the note and examined the drawings, and with a flick of his wand he sent it to his bag to take home later, knowing he’d remember to ask Draco about the casserole when he saw the paper. He knew, too, that Molly wouldn’t be expecting a response, since her note was a response to Harry’s initial RSVP, so he felt no guilt as he picked up his quill again. And he’d barely had time to put a check mark by the first question on the first student’s exam before there was a rap on his door.

“Merlin, Cassie!” he said loudly, expecting the knock to have come from his secretary. Cassandra was new, and a sweet girl, she really was, and Harry adored her, but she felt the need to alert him personally about _everything_. He’d tried to get her to send a memo if something was urgent, or tell him when he left at the end of the day if it was trivial, but she seemed to fear that the message wouldn’t find him or that she’d forget to mention it, so he often found himself interrupted by her when, really, the matter could have waited. He took a breath and dipped his quill, hoping that whatever she had to say wouldn’t take long. “I have to grade these, and you know the Minister’s been up my ass all week about the—”

But when the door opened, it wasn’t her, and Harry blotted the paper in his surprise as he watched his husband step into his office and close the door behind himself. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Draco grinned at him, and the first thing that Harry noticed (in spite of himself) was that _oh_ , did he look _good_ . Dressed-up, as usual (though Draco would likely claim it was merely casual), with his perfect hair and perfect eyes and perfect _everything_ . Harry seldom got to see him before work in the mornings; either he had to leave early or Draco did, so most of the time one of them was still in the shower while the other departed. And this was probably why Draco’s appearance struck him so much. Draco wore an expensive waistcoat under green robes so dark they were almost black. His piercing gray eyes glittered, matching the peculiar silver lapel pin he wore. It appeared to be in the shape of a stag beetle. He looked fuckable. _No_ , Harry realized, _no, that’s not it. I just want him to fuck_ me.

But Harry, of course, tried to ignore all of this as he met his husband’s eyes.

“Some incident outside Mulpepper’s,” Draco said, smiling. His tone was casual but, by the look in his eyes, he could tell that Harry was feigning his indifference. “Closed down a third of the shops in Diagon Alley for the remainder of the day, but the rest of us might as well shut down too. Anything people need they’ll go elsewhere for. Nobody wants to be anywhere nearby when there’s bubotuber pus and poison ivy covering the whole road.”

“I suppose. But why _here?_ ”

Draco grinned and sauntered closer, leaning against a wall to the left of Harry’s desk and crossing his arms. “I was bored.”

“I’m _busy_ , you know I can’t just stop whatever I’m doing to entertain you.”

“You’ve come home early every day for the past week and a half, Harry, there’s nothing on your plate right now. The trainees take care of any skirmishes — you haven’t had shit to do for a month.”

Although it may have just been wishful thinking, Harry began to get the sense that he _was_ going to get fucked. “Draco—”

“I told Cassie that it was a personal matter, and she said I could come right in,” Draco said, smirking at Harry, who was _almost_ irritated by the way he owned the room.

“This is my office! I’m—”

“Yes, I _know_ ,” Draco said, pushing off from the wall with a roll of his eyes and walking over to where Harry still sat behind his desk, “you’re _Head Auror_ , aren’t you?” His voice was condescendingly sweet as he spun Harry’s chair to face him. He used one knee to nudge Harry’s legs open, stepped between them, and grabbed Harry’s chin. He gently turned Harry’s head to either side, examining him.

Harry closed his eyes and set his jaw, because he was _at work_ , in his expensive Auror robes, and sitting behind the _Head Auror Potter_ sign on his desk. He tried to not let the cadence of his breathing change just from being manhandled, but he knew that, by this point, Draco knew him more than well enough to detect even the smallest sign that Harry was turned on.

“Draco,” he said, through gritted teeth, trying to sound firm. “I need to finish grading these exams by 2:30.” 

“Who told you that?”

“I— what?”

“We both know that your only direct orders come from the Minister. And we both know that Hermione _asks_ _you_ rather than ‘getting up your ass’ about something. And _I_ know you well enough to think that you set that deadline for yourself.”

“Draco, what are you playing at?”

Instead of answering him, Draco let go of Harry’s chin and sat on his desk. He snapped his fingers; a blank purple memo sheet appeared, floating innocuously beside them at Harry’s eye level. Draco tapped it twice with his wand, and words began to appear on it in a replica of Harry’s handwriting. 

“What are you—”

“Stop talking,” Draco said, and even though Harry was _at work_ , in his expensive Auror robes, and sitting behind the _Head Auror Potter_ sign on his desk, he fell silent at the tone of Draco’s voice.

He watched as words formed on the paper, the script so familiar and yet foreign at the same time: 

_Cassie— Anyone who comes by, tell them that I’m having a little family situation and I’m not to be disturbed. Everything’s all right. Just needs sorting out. HP._

“That doesn’t sound like me, I’d never say that—!”

“She’s been here two weeks,” Draco interrupted. “She’s got no clue what you sound like...”

And it was just those three short sentences in Harry’s scrawl, that’s it, and Draco tapped the memo again; it folded itself into a little airplane and whisked away. 

“...but she knows your handwriting.”

“Merlin, Malfoy, what the hell is this? You didn’t—” 

But the way Draco was sitting on his desk allowed his robes to fall open, and Harry saw one of his hands rest over the front of his trousers, and finally he was completely certain about what was going on. 

His mouth opened and remained like that as he tried to invent something to say. “I have work….” was all he could muster, and he knew how pathetic the disbelief in his voice sounded. He was _at work_ , was all he could think, in his expensive Auror robes, and sitting behind the _Head Auror Potter_ sign on his desk. How was this happening?

“Door’s locked,” Draco murmured huskily, casually cupping his bulge. His eyes were locked on Harry, whose throat was all of a sudden very dry. “...and I’m hard. You know what to do.” And he stood up, slowly unzipped himself, and pulled out his cock. 

Harry was still seated, and when Draco stepped closer, his cock just inches from Harry’s face, what little self control Harry had left stretched as thin as a wire. 

He couldn’t seem to form words. 

_I’m at_ work, he thought. _I’m fucking sitting in my chair in my office in the fucking Department of Magical Law Enforcement._

“You know what to do if you want to stop,” Draco said, his tone a bit more gentle than it had been previously. When Harry let out a hard breath, he added, “Although, I would bet a million Galleons that you’re already wet under those Auror robes of yours.”

Harry _was_. And so he bit back a whine, leaned forward in his chair, and took Draco into his mouth. 

He had so many questions. Did something _really_ happen in Diagon Alley, or was Draco just making it up as an excuse to come fuck him? Was the door _really_ locked? Fuck, what about a silencing spell? Wards?

But he felt Draco’s fingers thread through his hair, and he knew that Draco, always-and-completely-in-control Draco, would have thought everything through. And so Harry tried to swallow his worries alongside Draco’s cock. 

“You’re fucking adorable,” Draco said from above him, and Harry made a noise of surprise when, all of a sudden, his collar appeared around his neck. Draco chuckled. “Just making sure you know where your priorities are,” he said smugly.

But Harry could hardly remember a time he’d been more conflicted. He loved his collar, he loved sex. He loved the D/s everything that they had. And he _was_ turned on…. But this was his _work_ , and this was _sex._ And not just any sex, but _kinky_ sex; kinky, specifically _D/s sex_ that made up a huge part of their relationship. _At work_. Anxiety started to well up again in his chest, and Draco’s cock suddenly felt too big in his mouth. He made an anxious sound and tapped Draco’s thigh, and Draco let go of his hair immediately. 

Draco knelt down in front of his chair, allowing Harry to be the taller for once, and looked him in the eye. “You okay?” he said, his fingers gently tracing shapes on Harry’s wrist. 

“Did you put a silencer on the door?” was Harry’s first question and main concern.

Draco’s eyes were soft. “Yes.”

“And it’s locked?”

“Yes.

“This is a lot,” Harry admitted quietly. 

“Too much?” 

“No, just….”

“Do you want to be further under?”

 _Further under._ Further in his headspace where everything would feel perfect.

Harry nodded.

“Do you want this?”

He nodded again. 

“I need you to say it, baby.”

“I want it. Thank you.”

Draco took Harry’s left hand and gently raised it in his own, touching his lips to Harry’s knuckles and, significantly, his wedding band. “What do you want?” he asked gently.

Harry took a deep breath, and already things were beginning to feel better. He didn’t need for this to be _at work_ — he was just with Draco. “I think I need to be tied up,” he mumbled, feeling himself turn red: redder, at least, than he already was. 

“Sweet or rough?”

“Both. Please. I might need rough to get me more comfortable with it.”

“I understand,” Draco said, and he slowly rose again. His eyes were soft as he looked at Harry and tapped the top of the desk. “C’mon, baby, hop up.”

Draco, courteous as he was, didn’t sweep all of Harry’s files to the floor and leave them in a hectic mess; he swept his wand neatly over the desk surface and the papers all flew into orderly little stacks, which flew to land in a chair on the other side of the office (so as to not be disturbed by the two men’s antics). Harry smiled shyly and stood up, and Draco helped him shrug off his outer robes before he sat atop the desk. Draco, once more, moved his legs apart and stood between them, only this time, the desk made it so Harry had an inch on him. They smiled at each other. 

“You’re incredible,” Draco said, looking him right in the eyes, and kissed him.

It was a little strange, since Harry was accustomed to having to tilt his head up when he kissed Draco, but extremely pleasant nonetheless. The heat in the pit of his stomach had previously dwindled when his anxiety rose up, but it came roaring back as Draco kissed him harder. He felt Draco’s deft fingers undo each of the buttons of his shirt, and shuddered with arousal, but Draco just hooked a finger in the ring of his collar and pulled him closer. 

Harry’s hands began to wander too; he started to try to touch Draco’s cock, which was hardening again against his leg, but the taller man took his wrists and moved them away, nipping Harry’s lip as he did so. Harry moaned quietly and relaxed, and Draco pushed him back until he was lying across the top of the desk. His knees were bent and his lower legs were hanging off the edge of the desk, but Draco pulled Harry forward to more easily remove his trousers. Harry didn’t know what to do with his hands, and, as if having read his mind, Draco grabbed Harry’s forearms and hissed a spell under his breath; cuffs appeared around Harry’s wrists, and short chains sprang from them, rooting themselves in the wood of the desk. “Fuck—” Harry felt his wrists being pulled to the sides of his head and secured there, and Draco grinned at him before pulling Harry’s pants all the way down to his ankles.

“Hm,” Draco said appreciatively, tapping the damp spot that had soaked through Harry’s underwear, “I was _right_. Look how wet you are.” He removed Harry’s pants completely and knelt between his legs, pushing them apart and leaning in, his hot breath on the damp fabric. His tongue laved over the spot, and Harry felt Draco’s tongue moving on the other side of the fabric. 

“Damn it,” Harry choked out. “Hurry up. I want you.”

“You don’t seem in much of a position to be giving orders,” Draco replied smoothly, but, nonetheless, he took off Harry’s boxers. “I love how hard your tiny little cock gets for me,” he continued, once Harry was completely bottomless, and he licked hard over Harry’s dick.

Harry immediately lost all of his remaining ability to form sentences, and he bucked his hips without realizing it, seeking more pressure on his dick. He heard the other man’s muffled chuckle before Draco lowered his head again and sucked Harry’s dick into his mouth. Draco’s lips wrapped around the shaft of Harry’s dick as his tongue flicked lightly over the sensitive head, and each time Harry pressed his hips up, Draco just ate him out with more vigor. 

_I’m so glad he put a silencer up_ , the anxious part of Harry’s mind thought, but when Draco sucked hard on his dick once more, any other rational ideas he had were drowned out by pleasure. Harry bucked his hips again when Draco rubbed the outside of his cunt with two fingers, and he moaned when he felt those fingers slide into him. He was wet enough to ensure that there was no discomfort, and Harry could actually _feel_ himself get wetter around Draco’s fingers when they hooked and rubbed his G-spot.

“Fuck, yes—” he groaned. Though he was the one being pleasured, the lack of control he had made it ten times better: he had no say in how Draco would touch him, and if what Draco did wasn’t enough to get him to orgasm, having his wrists bound meant Harry had no way of finishing himself off. It wasn’t often at all that Draco got Harry close to orgasm only to end their play soon after. Harry hated being left without being able to cum, but the feeling of intense submission that came from Draco controlling his pleasure made Harry weak at the knees — even if their sex or scene was over, Draco still took advantage of how submissive Harry felt after being denied.

He hoped that something like that wouldn’t happen now. There was no way he’d be able to focus on getting back to work if he hadn’t been allowed to cum — the submissive feeling would drive him crazy until he’d be squirming in his desk chair just to get some friction from his boxers.

He was jolted back to reality when he felt Draco slow. He’d gone from hard, fast licks and sucking to long, slow, teasing licks, and Harry needed _more_. Draco’s fingers stopped hooking inside him; now they straightened and moved slowly in and out of Harry’s cunt, providing little satisfaction.

“Draco,” Harry groaned, “come _on_ .” He realized that he was trying to grind against Draco’s mouth, and then was surprised when he realized that Draco was _letting_ him. Draco had been on a rough, dominant streak of late, selfishly taking what he wanted from Harry and being even stricter when Harry broke a rule. The last several times he had sucked Harry off, Draco had firmly held down Harry’s hips, devouring him without caring what Harry wanted. When in his controlling moods, Draco claimed that the only reason he did it was to make Harry wetter, since then it felt better for Draco to fuck him, but Harry knew that Draco loved making him squirm. 

Which is why he was surprised upon noticing that Draco was allowing Harry to rub against his mouth. Had Harry been in any state of mind to explore this further, he would have come to the conclusion that Draco was trying to make him more comfortable — almost an apology for being too forward a few minutes prior. 

Draco’s languid tongue kept going, licking lazy strokes up Harry’s dick. And though Draco allowed him to move, as soon as Harry’s dick pressed too hard against his tongue, Draco moved back a little, consistently preventing Harry from getting the pressure he craved.

“Fuck...you—” he gasped, writhing in his chains.

And that was the worst thing Harry could’ve said, because Draco leaned back slightly and grinned at him. Rather than providing constant stimulation, even if it was underwhelming, Draco’s tongue now only flicked Harry’s dick every few seconds as he spoke: “ _Fuck_ me?” Draco asked, a horribly annoying, teasing lilt to his voice. “I thought that you” — _flick_ — “only wanted to _get_ fucked.” _Flick._ “You want to fuck me?” _Flick._

Harry groaned. That wasn’t what he’d meant, of course, but...he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. He’d wondered how it would feel. He’d wondered if he would be in charge. He’d wondered what it would be like to see Draco bottoming. 

Draco’s tongue flicked him again. “Hm?”

“I don’t...I don’t know—” 

_Flick_ . “Yes, you do.” _Flick_. “You ever thought about fucking me, Harry?”

“I- yeah—”

 _Flick._ “Yeah?”

“Yeah….”

And suddenly Draco licked hard over his dick, and Harry let out a shout, his hips moving of their own accord to try to get more of this man’s _mouth_. But then Draco’s tongue was gone, and Draco replaced it with the pad of his thumb, lightly stroking over the shaft of Harry’s dick. 

“What did you think about?” Draco said, his voice draped in silk and velvet. He was still gently fucking Harry with his fingers, but now he began to curl them again inside Harry’s cunt. 

Harry moaned. “F-fuck, I don’t know, I—”

“Yes,” Draco said again, “you do. Tell me.”

Harry whimpered and pressed his hips up, but Draco just continued the same pattern of light, lackadaisical rubbing over Harry’s dick. He knew that Draco would make him talk, and he knew that he’d give in. 

It was ironic, to say the least: here he was, in his Auror uniform (well, just the undershirt), and one thing he’d always known he was good at was not breaking. He’d been able to throw off the Imperius Curse almost his whole life, he’d never cracked even after the Cruciatus, nothing….

...but the way he fell apart so easily under Draco was humiliating, and he loved it. He came to the realization that he was whimpering continuously, trying to respond to Draco but unable to bring himself to. 

“So far gone that you can’t even talk?” Draco condescended, his tone all arrogance, and this just made it even harder for Harry to make himself speak. 

His breath shook. “I think about — fuck, I just, ahh — I think about you tying me down like this, and making me wear a...a strap-on, and then riding me and just taking what you want and I can’t cum because it’s not rubbing against my dick and then you jerk off right there and cum on my chest—” His words flew out far too quickly, and he broke off with a whine; Draco rewarded him by sucking momentarily on his dick before he moved his thumb back over it.

“What else?”

“Fuck, I can’t—”

“Say it, Harry.”

“And...I think about you lying back and making me fuck you and it feels good because it rubs against my dick but it’s not enough, and — _fuck_ ,” he said, when Draco’s fingers pushed a little deeper inside him, “and you telling me how desperate and pretty I look when I fuck you and try to feel good even though I can’t cum from that, and you’d make me fuck you while you touched yourself, until you came….” Harry jolted when he felt Draco’s tongue on him again, but once again, it was there only a second before Draco pulled back again.

“Such a good slut,” Draco said sweetly. “Even in your depraved little fantasies, all you can think about is me using you for my own pleasure.” When Harry moaned again, Draco smirked up at him and continued. “I know you like thinking about me using you and then leaving you there without letting you cum. Maybe sometime we’ll do that. I can get you a cute harness and a strap-on and make you watch while I fuck myself on you. Make you lick it up like a good boy when I cum all over you. Would you like that?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Maybe I’ll lie back and have you fuck me like that,” Draco said. “I’ll have you on that little short leash you love, so I’d be able to make you move however I wanted. I’d have you look right at me as I told you how good it felt getting filled while you fucked me. I’d bet you’d wanna touch me so badly, but I’d just make you keep moving while I jerked myself off.”

It was overwhelming, Harry felt, to get told how he could top when he was currently trying to fuck himself on Draco’s fingers. He found it was not unpleasant in the least. 

And then Draco’s mouth enveloped his dick again, and Harry lost all comprehension. And this time, thank Merlin, Draco didn’t stop, and pleasure washed over Harry. 

“Please,” he moaned, though, admittedly, there was little more that he wanted right then: years of glorious sex with Harry had Draco’s fingers moving in just the right ways and his tongue swirling exactly how he knew Harry liked it. 

He’d never been able to cum from oral — only his own hand or a vibrator could push him over. The pressure was never quite right if it wasn’t from one of those, but wow, Draco sure could get him close. Sometimes, when Harry wasn’t cuffed like this, Draco would move back, his mouth slick, and pull Harry’s hand down to prompt him to touch himself if he was close. Draco would keep moving, fingering Harry or fucking him with his tongue while Harry rubbed himself off. Draco had never been insecure about how he couldn’t make Harry cum by himself; he understood that it was different for people who had bodies similar to Harry’s, and that it was hard sometimes, and he was kind and helpful and sweet, doing all he could to help Harry whenever possible. 

Harry badly wanted for Draco to untie him just so he could touch his dick, but at the same time he loved the feeling of being chained there and unable to finish himself off. But then he felt cool air on his dick as Draco’s mouth and hand pulled away, and he bucked, trying to convince Draco to keep sucking him.

“Please,” he moaned again, but Draco just flicked Harry’s dick with his index finger and stood. He held up the hand he’d been fingering Harry with, spreading his fingers apart to show Harry how wet he was, the wetness clinging to his fingers. 

Draco smirked down at Harry. “You wanna taste yourself?” he said, raising his eyebrows. 

Harry bit his tongue and looked away. After a moment he nodded minutely.

“Cute,” Draco drawled. “Say it.”

Harry made a noncommittal sound and exhaled hard through his nose, shifting uncertainly. “Can I taste my wetness?” he mumbled.

“What a good boy you are,” Draco praised, though something in his voice made it sound like patronization, and he forced his wet fingers into Harry’s mouth. 

Harry moaned when Draco’s fingers pushed into his mouth, and he was overwhelmed with the salty taste of how much Draco affected him. 

“I love seeing you like this,” Draco said, pushing his fingers farther into Harry’s mouth until Harry gagged. “I can’t wait to fuck you like this, see how pretty you look all spread out for me...although,” he mused, almost as an afterthought, running his other hand possessively over Harry’s inner thigh, “I do quite enjoy bending you over the furniture while I fuck you. Tough decisions, indeed.” 

Harry choked out a whine around Draco’s fingers and somehow became more aroused when he saw Draco smirk again.

“Which would you prefer?” Draco simpered, fingertips grazing the skin of Harry’s inner thighs, so close to his dick and yet so far.

Harry didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he could have said so even if Draco’s fingers _weren't_ in his mouth, so he just moaned. 

“I can’t understand you, baby,” Draco said calmly, pressing his fingertips against Harry’s tongue. 

And this always made Harry dizzy, when Draco did something like this — told him to move when he was tied, asked him a question while he was gagged...it made Harry feel helpless. He’d want to please Draco so badly, but not know where to start, and it made him wetter and harder than it had any right to. 

“Tell me which one you want,” Draco said coldly. “Like this, or I push you over, turn you around, and take you like that.”

Harry couldn’t do anything more than blink at Draco helplessly and whimper, his mouth busy, and without warning, Draco took his fingers out of Harry’s mouth and slapped him across the face. 

“ _Pick one_.”

But by this point, Harry was hardly in any condition to think properly about _anything_ other than dominant, rough, merciless Draco. He shuddered and opened his mouth, trying to find any words. 

“W-what were the options again?”

Draco actually laughed. “Can’t pay attention when I push you around, I shouldn’t have expected anything more. Would you rather I fuck you as you are, on your back, or I bend you over the desk and use you like that?”

 _Fuck_ , that sounded good, Harry thought. “I...I like thinking about both,” he mumbled.

“Tell me why,” Draco said, and he slid his hands up Harry’s torso and began to lightly trace circles around his nipples, carefully avoiding them. “Pros and cons of each.” 

It was so hard to talk while being subjected to this glorious torture, and Harry had no idea if he was making any sense as he began speaking. “Ah— fuck, I like this,” he said. “Because my shirt is open and you get to tease me like this. And because, ngh, you can move and spread my legs however you want, and I’m tied and I can’t do anything. ‘N you can kiss me and look at me. And...my arms are up.”

Draco knew that Harry automatically felt more vulnerable when his arms were above his head because of how ticklish Harry’s underarms were. Harry hated it, but Draco knew that it made Harry struggle more when his ticklishness was at stake.

“But the other way you could touch my ass and spank me,” Harry continued, squirming to try to get Draco to actually touch his nipples, “or pull my head back. Tie my arms in front of me and push my chest against the desk. Merlin, Draco, please just—” 

He stopped suddenly, whining when one of Draco’s hands made its way up to his throat, lightly touching his Adam’s apple, above his collar. Harry tilted his head back automatically, and he gasped when Draco _finally_ touched one of his nipples. He felt no pain as Draco pinched him gently and slowly began increasing the pressure on Harry’s nipple, until finally he was pinching _hard_. The sensation shot straight to Harry’s cunt; he groaned and he arched into the feeling of Draco’s touch on his chest. But Draco’s fingers wrapped around his throat, and Harry shuddered and went limp as Draco slowly choked him. 

“ _Fuck_ —” he managed, and he realized his hips were moving of their own accord, trying to grind his dick on air. Draco’s teeth found his other nipple at the same time he loosened his grip on Harry’s throat and moved his hand away, but Harry wanted more. He wanted to get dizzy. He wanted to let the numb feeling wash over him as Draco held his throat in the ultimate display of dominance.

“More,” he begged, delirious with desire. 

To Harry’s dismay, Draco’s mouth and fingers left his chest as their eyes met. “No, baby,” Draco murmured sweetly. “I can’t, not for too long, ‘s’not safe.” He leaned in and began kissing Harry’s collarbone, as if in consolation for not being able to choke him more. 

“Please,” Harry said, and he noticed that his voice sounded quite far away. “Please, it feels so good.” 

And now Harry didn’t know if he was begging to be choked, begging for Draco to keep toying with his nipples, or begging to be touched and allowed to cum. But, regardless of what he was asking for, Draco didn’t answer him.

What Draco _did_ do was climb halfway onto the desk so he was above Harry, and kiss him heavily. Harry gasped and his hands automatically tried to move to hold Draco closer, to touch his face, to wrap around him, but upon hearing the quiet clink of chains he remembered his bondage. Not as peeved as he’d like to have been, but still wanting to touch Draco, Harry tugged at his wrist restraints pointlessly. 

One of Draco’s hands held his weight beside Harry’s head as they kissed, while the other slipped down between their bodies and touched Harry’s dick. Harry moaned into Draco’s mouth, trying to grind against his hand; from his throat rose a sound of desperation when Draco chuckled into the kiss and moved his hand instead to his own cock, which, Harry realized, had been out this whole time. 

The kiss was exhilarating, both firing Harry up and pushing him further to submission. He made a discontented noise when Draco suddenly broke the kiss and pulled back; Draco grinned at him and stood up, and he looked Harry right in the eyes as he began to stroke himself.

Harry whined and strained against his bondage, wanting to touch Draco, wanting to pleasure him, and, more than anything else, wanting Draco’s cock in his mouth. His eyes raked over Draco’s body: dressed in some of the finest garments Galleons could buy, not a stitch out of place, and fully clothed except for his fly undone, Draco exuded power, authority, and nonchalant arousal; he watched Harry struggle, casually jerking himself off. Harry couldn’t stop reacting, moaning and panting as his eyes took in the way Draco languidly touched himself.

“I’m not even touching you,” Draco murmured, his voice dark and...approving? “And this is how you get. So fucking desperate.”

Harry whimpered and shook, his eyes fixed on Draco’s hand moving slowly over his cock as he looked at Harry. 

“You like watching me?”

The way Draco was standing, so casual even while all of this was happening, got to Harry even more. “ _Yes_.” 

“Why?”

“Fuck, you’re so hot, I want to make you feel good. I love that you’re jerking off while looking at me.”

“You want my cock?”

Harry moaned again and nodded. He couldn’t make himself look away even if he wanted to. His cunt ached and clenched, and he felt like he needed to cum more than he’d ever needed anything.

“Where do you want it?”

“My cunt. Please.”

“Why?” 

_Fuck_ , Harry thought. _He’s gonna make me say it_. “I feel so empty and it would feel so good. And I want to make you feel good too. Please.”

“That’s it?” Draco asked neutrally, feigning innocence. He raised an eyebrow at Harry, still stroking himself. 

“Y-yeah.” 

Harry knew he didn’t sound convincing, and he heard the way it sounded more like a question than anything. He knew what Draco wanted — for Harry to admit to something he fantasized about on the regular yet was profoundly embarrassed by. It could have been one of many things, really — Harry was a prolific fantasizer, so to speak. But context told him what Draco wanted to hear.

Harry had worried and pined for weeks after having figured it out — before Draco had gotten it out of him, of course, he always did — but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still embarrassed by it. It was something unfamiliar to him; which was why it was so odd, he had originally felt, that he would want it. 

Harry had what, he’d eventually learned, was called a breeding kink. “I would rather eat a hutch’s worth of fine china,” he’d said to Draco, “than get pregnant.” And this was why it had confused him. But now that Draco had found out, and incorporated the concept into their play a few times, Harry understood. Some things were just fantasy, and that was okay.

“Aw, baby,” Draco said quietly, pityingly, mockingly, “you know I can tell when you’re lying to me.”

Harry made a small noise and shook his head. 

“I know what you want,” Draco continued. “I know what you think about, and you’re going to tell me.”

Harry shut his eyes tightly, so embarrassed and _so_ _wet_. “Please, I can’t—”

But Harry _could_ , they both knew it, and they both knew he was going to. 

“You’re going to tell me,” Draco said, “because you won’t get my cock unless you do.”

Harry hesitated; he turned his head to the side, breathing hard, and he heard himself whimper again. “I...I want you to cum in my cunt,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“You _know_ —”

“I want you to say it yourself.”

Harry knew that he was going to eventually. It was only a matter of time. He bit back further protests, reluctantly resigning himself to what Draco wanted, and kept his eyes closed. 

“Look at me, Harry.”

Harry made a humiliated, unhappy sound but opened his eyes. 

“Why do you want my cum in your cunt, Harry?”

Harry moaned and took a deep, shaky breath. “I….” Deep, shaky breath. “I want you to knock me up,” he whispered, his eyes on Draco’s. 

“What?”

Draco _had_ heard him, Harry knew, but only sought to embarrass him further. “I want to get knocked up,” he said, a little louder, though no more willingly, and he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side again. 

And suddenly he felt the head of Draco’s cock against his opening, and gasped, his eyes flying open.

“You want me to fill you up and get you pregnant?” Draco murmured, slowly rubbing himself on the outside of Harry’s cunt. “You want that, baby?”

“Yes,” Harry moaned, in spite of himself, unconsciously trying to move to rub his dick against Draco’s, “please.”

Draco’s palm gently pressed down on Harry’s chest, holding him still so he wouldn’t move again. “Please what?”

“Fuck, please knock me up….”

“Beg for my cock.”

Harry felt Draco moving against him, rubbing against his cunt and smearing the wetness over himself, but he wanted so much more. “Please,” he begged, “I need your cock inside me, filling me up, please, I’ll make you feel so good.” When Draco didn’t move, he kept going. “I want your cum inside me, please fuck me, I need it, I need your cock so much….”

And Harry gasped when he felt Draco finally push inside him, filling his cunt far too slowly. His eyes shut again and he tilted his head back, whimpering. 

“I can’t believe how wet you are,” Draco said huskily as he pushed all the way inside Harry. “Leaking all over my cock. I could fucking tease you all day, you look so good with your cunt dripping for me.” He began to rock his hips slowly, still staying most of the way inside Harry as he started moving. His left hand moved from Harry’s chest to holding one of his legs up, maneuvering him exactly how he wanted. Harry just groaned and arched his back, basking in the feeling of being controlled. 

“So wet for me,” Draco said, and Harry _wished_ he would move faster. “I love getting you all embarrassed and seeing how wet your cunt gets from it. You want my cum inside you, huh?”

“Please, yes—”

Draco chuckled, grinding into him. “What a dumb slut,” he growled, “wanting me to knock him up.” And he thrust into Harry a little harder, picking up the pace just a bit. “I wouldn’t care if you didn’t want it, either, since you belong to me. I get to use your cunt however I want to, and what I want is to see how cute you’ll look when I get you pregnant.”

Harry moaned, trying to move to get friction on his dick, but Draco held Harry still as he fucked him. “Fuck,” he rasped, “I need—”

“You want to touch your little dick?” Draco teased, rocking into him. “Is that what you want?”

“ _Nnh_ — I, yes — but, _ah_ , more, please—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Draco said coldly, and Harry fell silent with a whimper. “Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

“Would you rather touch yourself or have my cum in you?”

Harry groaned. “Can’t I have both?” he asked desperately.

“No. Pick one.”

Harry hesitated.

“Rather have your cum in me,” he said truthfully, after a moment of reluctant consideration. “Please.”

“Good boy,” Draco said, affection in his voice. He murmured something; Harry’s wand arm fell free from the chains. “That was the right answer. You can have both.”

“Fuck, thank you….”

Harry dropped his arm and slid his hand between his legs. His dick was slippery from how wet he was, and he let out a choked whine as he began touching himself. He heard Draco’s breath hitch upon feeling Harry’s cunt clench, and something like pride rushed through him — _he_ was the one making Draco feel like that.

“You’re so beautiful,” Draco said. “You feel amazing, I love when you touch yourself when I’m inside you. Fuck, you clench around me and you get so wet, it drives me mad.” Harry groaned at Draco’s words, and Draco slowed his thrusts, leaned down, and kissed him. 

Harry felt himself get pushed closer, an embarrassing amount closer, just by feeling Draco’s mouth against his, hot and wet and controlling. He felt intoxicated by Draco’s cock inside him, full and deep and everything he wanted. He moaned into the kiss when Draco nipped his tongue, and keened when Draco broke away and began to fuck him harder. 

“You’re dripping so much,” Draco said, his voice strained. “You always get so wet when I tell you how I want to knock you up, don’t you?”

Harry gasped, and he knew by now that he was past the point of embarrassment. “Yes, fuck, please—”

“Maybe I won’t even let you cum,” Draco continued. “I’ll just pin you down and take you until you’re dripping with my cum. Toys like you don’t need to feel good, you’re only here to please me.

“I could tie you to my bed with your legs up, I’d come and use you and fill you up whenever I wanted, you’d be so full of my cum. You were made for this.”

When Draco said that, Harry believed him. All he wanted was to belong to him. He’d known for a long time that inhibitions were lowered during sex, and he could see why: even if he was _capable_ of getting pregnant, he’d still want Draco to finish inside him, no questions asked. He’d beg, even. Like that was any surprise.

Harry was close, his fingers frantically working over his dick; he felt liquid desperation boil inside him, hot in the pit of his stomach. “Please choke me,” he gasped, and he groaned when Draco’s hand found his throat. Every breath came out as a moan as Draco thrust into him; there was no resistance, no friction, the movement of Draco’s cock unhindered due to how wet Harry was. He loved being choked while Draco fucked him, and this time was no exception: he felt himself getting a bit lightheaded, and found himself nearing one of the best parts of sex, where miniature fireworks would shoot through him, little sparkling showers in all colors. 

“You’re close,” Draco said, panting, “I can feel your cunt getting tighter, damn. It feels so good when you cum on my cock, makes me want to own you even more.”

Harry made a high-pitched, frenzied sound, the fireworks building rapidly in number, and when Draco let go of his neck, he gasped out, “Please, please, can I cum—?” He felt wild, needy, and it took immense effort to wait for permission, trying not to push himself over the edge too early. It was beyond him how something could feel this good, this _right_ , this all-consuming. The fireworks were about to go off, and he desperately waited to see, see the gorgeous display of colors they had to offer him. 

“Yes, you may,” Draco said, and that was all Harry needed.

His world exploded. His back arched, his legs shook, and though Harry couldn’t understand how something could possibly feel this _good_ , he didn’t care. Everything was consumed by pleasure, every other thought drowned out by the frantic movements of his hand, and Draco’s cock inside him. The fireworks were beautiful, drawing Harry in...the colors leaped and raced, filling his whole body with sparks and plumes and petals, all for him, all for Draco. 

Draco let out a rare moan, and Harry heard it from very, very far away. “Gonna cum,” Draco said through gritted teeth, and Harry, already in his climax, was overwhelmed with nothing short of elation, euphoria, and intense arousal. “You’re so good, baby, yes—”

The last few thrusts right as Draco came inside Harry were inarguably the best, every time. Harry would never know exactly what it felt like for Draco, but he adored being on the receiving end; the pleasure that shot up his spine when Draco thrust deep into him and stayed there, full and hot and perfect. It was the _notion_ more than anything else, and the intimacy of it all: Draco was _inside_ him, filling him — the idea that he could make Harry his even more by cumming inside him. That was what Harry loved about that specific, dauntingly appealing play that Draco had forced him to admit to wanting: it was, biologically speaking, _what he was for_ . And _Nature_ didn’t know that Harry couldn’t reproduce, but, fuck — the _idea_ that he was made to do that, to carry someone’s child, _Draco’s_ child, got to him like little else.

It always surprised Harry how long his high lasted — notably longer than Draco’s — and by the time he had come most of the way down, his hand slowing on his dick, Draco was already grounded again, smiling at him fondly. Harry still felt wonderfully full, and looked with disappointment toward the moment when Draco would pull out. He realized that his left arm was now free, apparently having been released sometime while he was distracted by bliss.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbled, “fuck, wow.” 

“You’re gorgeous,” Draco said. On the edge of his tone floated reverence, like he still couldn’t believe he had the privilege of watching Harry cum, even after years of sex together. His hair was uncharacteristically messy, and it was endearing to see him like that, Harry thought, since the whole rest of the world only saw well-put-together Draco and nothing less.

“That was incredible,” Harry said, out of breath and in that lovely, fuzzy state of mind where reality is pleasantly distorted — where nothing seems real, yet everything is overturned by the incredible realization that comes after good sex. The fireworks had fizzled out, but it was the kind of display that leaves an impression; the kind where you still think about the beauty, the colors, the lights, for hours afterwards and smile. “Merlin, you’re so fucking hot.” He sat up and propped himself up with his left hand, his right still between his legs.

“You say that,” Draco said to him, “like you don’t know how I feel about you.” 

“I know how,” Harry said. Their faces were close together, and he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Draco’s. “I see the way you look at me, like I’m the best thing you’ve ever seen.” It wasn’t arrogant, it was true.

“ _Like_ you’re the best thing I’ve ever seen?” Draco said, a nudging lilt to his voice, but Harry knew that Draco meant to affirm what Harry already knew — he _was_ the best thing that Draco had ever seen. “You’re so beautiful it puts everything else to shame.”

“You’re amazing,” Harry said. He meant every word, and had for years. “You’re everything I need.”

“Seems like you’re just here for the sex,” Draco teased, and Harry knew that Draco didn't really think that, so he laughed and kissed him, his left hand coming up to wrap around the back of Draco’s neck.

He’d forgotten about the collar, only reminded when Draco tugged on it, pulling him farther into the kiss, and he gasped softly. Draco’s tongue slipped into Harry’s mouth, and Harry moaned quietly and began to idly touch himself once more.

“I’m hard again,” Harry mumbled into the kiss, running his fingers between his legs and over his dick. It was swollen and he could feel it pulse a little bit whenever his cunt clenched. 

Draco chuckled against Harry’s lips and wrapped his arms around him, drawing them chest to chest. “I should let you get back to work,” he said, smiling.

Harry sighed. “Nooo,” he said, still reminiscing about the fireworks. “Stay here.” He felt giddy, almost. Like he was following a treasure map and was so close to the _X_ that to stop now would be devastating.

“Harry.”

“I’m Head Auror, I can just leave and nobody’s going to say anything, c’mon, Draco. We can go home. Do something fun for the rest of the afternoon.”

“You just want more sex,” Draco said, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

“No,” Harry said, unconvincingly.

Draco laughed. “You’ve got exams to grade. I can’t go back to Diagon Alley, so I’ll go home and do some work there and make dinner, and you’ll be done in three hours. You can wait that long.”

“Stay,” Harry wheedled. He wandlessly spelled his fingers clean, cupped Draco’s face in his hands, and kissed him hard; wrapping his legs around his husband’s waist (and trying to ignore the pleasant shifting of Draco’s cock, still inside him), Harry leaned back, causing Draco to topple off balance and fall over him, forced to brace his palms on the desk to catch himself.

Draco grunted in surprise against Harry’s mouth before chuckling and kissing him back. And then it was Harry’s turn to make a noise of surprise when Draco ground into him suddenly, rubbing wonderfully inside him. The sound Harry made morphed into raw arousal when Draco grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the desk. 

He gasped when Draco moved again, rubbing against his dick while slowly grinding into him. Draco’s mouth made its way to Harry’s neck, and he started to gently suck a mark into Harry’s skin above the collar, in a spot a little ways below his ear that always drove him insane.

Harry’s breathing began to shake, but he remembered that he was still wearing the collar, and squirmed away — any bruises higher than that would be visible easily over his robes, and he _was_ still in his office. “Wait,” he whimpered quietly.

Draco growled possessively, gripping Harry’s wrists and holding him still, almost painfully. Harry felt Draco’s hips and mouth fall still, lips not on Harry anymore but breathing hotly on the sensitive skin of his neck. “What was that?” Draco said, and he licked Harry’s neck in the spot where he’d begun to leave a bruise just a moment before. 

Harry whined as he felt Draco’s tongue on his skin, and he let himself be held down and subdued. “It’s high up,” he said halfheartedly, and involuntarily bucked his hips to shift Draco’s cock inside him. 

Draco gently bit down on Harry’s neck, and Harry reluctantly felt the argument drain out of him as Draco’s teeth sank into his skin. He groaned.

“You have a problem with that?” Draco murmured, beginning to suck on the spot again, and Harry knew that it was too late, regardless of how he felt about it — he’d already have a bruise there.

 _Oh, fuck_ , Harry thought, and made an aroused noise at the idea that Draco had done it despite his protests. Harry knew that Draco was fully aware of the difference between a “no” and their safeword — “no” simply meant that Harry was hesitant and embarrassed about how much something turned him on; or, in a brattier context, that he just wanted Draco to be rougher and force him a bit more. Yes, he was not thrilled about having to figure out the mark on his neck while being at work, but he adored the helplessness that came when Draco roughed him up even after he argued.

“Sounds like you don’t mind too much, baby, huh?” Draco said, not bothering to wait for Harry to string together a coherent response, and slowly started to grind into him again.

Harry groaned again and bared his neck as Draco finished marking him. “No, sir,” he muttered. Harry knew that he would never choose to use magic to cover up the marks Draco gave him, and Draco did too, which was why he occasionally inflicted them on Harry in order to claim him, knowing that they’d stay until they faded.

He stiffened and moaned in the back of his throat when Draco’s fingers gently wrapped around his neck. Not choking, just...omnipresent.

“What a pretty boy you are,” Draco said mockingly, and suddenly got off of Harry, his cock slipping from him as he did so, pulling Harry off the desk and to the floor.

Harry hissed through his teeth when his knees hit the rough carpet, and he barely had any time to complain about the change in position before he felt Draco’s wet cock brush his lips. He could feel cum dripping out of him and onto the carpet. 

“Fuck you,” he mumbled, and Draco took the opportunity of Harry’s lips parting to grip his hair and push forward, forcing his cock into Harry’s mouth. It tasted strongly of cum and his own wetness, and Harry resented that he moaned quietly when it overwhelmed his senses. His hands were free, and he brought them up to rest on the fronts of Draco’s thighs in order to steady himself. Draco towered above him, it seemed, and Harry knelt at his feet, as subservient as Draco wanted him but not without his own desires.

Draco’s left hand held him by the hair, but his right brushed over Harry’s ear and then lower to the hickey on his neck, tracing it possessively. Harry badly wanted to touch his dick again, to slowly rub the sides of it and stroke himself until he was as hard as he could be. He knew he probably wouldn’t be able to cum again right away, realistically, but the desire was still there, just as strong as if he hadn’t cum a few moments previously. 

He wasn’t sure where the little bit of brattiness had come from — the reluctance to submit again, specifically — but it almost always made submission better when Draco forced his hand. Almost hoping that Draco would stop him, Harry slid a hand between his legs and slowly began to jerk himself off, taking his small dick between his forefinger and thumb and tugging at it. Draco, who of course noticed everything, acknowledged by gripping Harry’s hair more firmly and thrusting into his throat. Harry gagged but acclimated quickly, his throat tightening around Draco’s cock. 

“Already jerking your little cock again even though you came just a few minutes ago?” Draco said, pulling Harry’s head down. “You’re so predictable.”

Harry gasped when Draco allowed him air, and continued to touch himself, wanting to get filled again. 

“Love tasting yourself while you clean me off?” Draco said a few moments later, and Harry moaned in response. “Can’t get enough of having your mouth full of cock? Fuck,” he’d added, “you're incredible. You take it so well, look at you, all flushed and pretty. Open your eyes, baby.”

Harry moaned again and blinked his eyes open, and he saw Draco lean back a bit, still fucking Harry’s throat, to look at him. His eyes watered a bit, and his vision was a little blurry — he had to blink every few seconds to clear it — and he recognized this as a symptom of being overwhelmed with how much he loved what they were doing. 

Draco eased Harry off of his cock, smirking when Harry licked his lips and broke the line of saliva that had connected his mouth to Draco’s head. Harry was panting and still touching himself as Draco pulled his hair, forcing his head up to connect their eyes. 

“You like this?”

 _What a dumb question_ , Harry thought. _Just look at me, you know I do._ But he nodded regardless. 

“Does it feel good?”

Harry nodded again. He’d only ever been able to cum once or twice from this way of touching his dick — mimicking how people with larger penises would do it — rather than rubbing himself, but it was still lovely every once in a while. Especially when his physical arousal was more focused on his dick rather than being penetrated, which it currently was. 

“ _Words_ , Harry.”

“Yes,” he said begrudgingly, “it feels good.”

Draco’s hand left his hair and tugged him up by the collar so they were standing chest to chest. Harry had the sudden urge to shy away, knowing he looked like a mess. Any recalcitrance left him in an instant; he ducked his head slightly, but Draco’s hand nudged his chin up, and he couldn’t look away like he wanted to. 

“Good boy,” Draco murmured, still holding him close, though Harry hadn’t felt he’d done anything particularly meritorious. 

And then Draco cupped his face and kissed him, and Harry...well, there was no better word for it, Harry _melted_ into him. Though he _was_ a bit shy about how much he reacted, Harry loved it too much to be too embarrassed — loved when Draco could control him just with the smallest touch or the most meaningless word.

He made a quiet, happy sound when Draco licked into his mouth, and his hands rose tentatively to Draco’s shoulders. Draco held his face in one hand and lowered the other, slowly tracing down Harry’s chest and abdomen until he reached Harry’s dick. Harry gasped minutely when he felt Draco touch it, and heard Draco’s amused, pleased hum in response.

Such was an affirmation that Draco knew what he did to Harry. Draco _knew_ him; he often teased Harry when they were around others — especially friends — in order to get a reaction. It would be something so small, so nearly imperceptible, that no one else could pick up on it unless they knew what tells Harry had — which, of course, nobody did. Except Draco. He’d brush his fingers across the back of Harry’s neck, discreetly tug at his hair, or pinch a pressure point in public, just to watch with satisfaction as Harry tried to hide his reactions: the tiny whimpers and gasps, the way he ducked his head, the way his breath shook. Draco drew it all from him so easily, and it mortified Harry to have to try to maintain control when they were around other people. But he loved it. If Harry wore something that Draco had gotten him, he could tell that Draco made a point to mess with it at some point — he’d adjust Harry’s bow tie, perhaps; fix the collar of his shirt or robes; even fiddle with the charms on a necklace or day collar that Harry was wearing — all to discreetly rile Harry up. Draco would always smirk when he noticed Harry’s reaction, and it drove Harry mad. What was worse, even, was when Draco would hiss something in his ear when nobody else was paying attention: “good boy” was a common one if he wanted to make Harry pliant and distracted; even a quick reprimand, scolding him for any number of actions, got to Harry — he’d want to make it up to Draco, or even, on somewhat-rare occasions, provoke him further.

 _Those_ occasions typically ended with Harry being forced roughly to his knees as soon as they walked through the front door of their home.

Harry shifted his legs a bit farther apart when Draco’s fingers slipped lower between his thighs, gathering wetness from his cunt and using it to softly rub his dick. “Fuck,” he gasped, his head falling back; Draco’s lips found his throat. 

“I love you,” he moaned out quietly, and it was embarrassing to say _anything_ when his voice was like this, breathy and groaning and such, but it was _true_ . The fact that Draco _consistently_ took the time to touch him in the ways he knew Harry loved, to take care of him in the ways Harry barely knew he needed, and so much more...thinking about it was stunning, frightening, _fantastical_ , but simultaneously the most incredible feeling, and Harry just...really, really adored this man. 

“I love you too,” Draco murmured in his ear, stroking his dick gently, caringly. And the overwhelming love Harry felt, in combination with the little shimmers of pleasure spinning through his body, made his knees feel, all of a sudden, very unsteady.

“Draco,” he whimpered, not sure what he wanted, and he clutched at Draco’s shoulder. He felt Draco move him back, turning him gently, and guide him into his desk chair. He sat on the edge of the seat and leaned back in bliss as Draco continued to touch him. “I need….”

“I’ve got you, baby,” Draco said, kneeling in front of him, and the susurration of his voice was calming. Harry felt Draco take his legs and move them so they were slung over Draco’s shoulders, and he felt fingers gently pressing into his cunt.

“Yes,” Harry said mindlessly, and he sucked in a surprised breath when he felt the pleasant sensation of a vibrator press lightly against his dick. Draco must have conjured it, or...had it in his pocket? Maybe the latter, since it seemed to be a familiar one: one that Harry liked for its low, deep rumbling — rather than the buzzing of some others that served only to tickle him or make his dick numb. “Fuck….” he whimpered, pressing his hips up, and he groaned low in his throat when Draco’s fingers began to hook inside his cunt.

“You’re so pretty,” Draco murmured to him, affection blooming in his voice. 

“Thank you….”

The praise was like a drug, both turning Harry on and making happiness swell in his chest. 

Harry seldom came twice in the same session, but now it didn’t seem so far fetched: he felt sparks flickering in him — little beginnings of, hopefully, fireworks still to come. The number of sparks increased when Draco pressed the vibrator harder against Harry’s dick, and he felt his cunt tighten around Draco’s fingers. 

“I bet there’s still some of my cum inside you,” Draco said seductively and pleasantly, and Harry moaned. “Even if it didn’t work this time, I’ll be bound to impregnate you at some point.” 

The apathy in the way Draco said it made Harry shudder with want. He arched, bucking his hips and delighting in the feeling of Draco’s fingers rubbing wonderfully against his G-spot. 

It was _always_ better when Draco fingered him than when he fingered himself, for whatever reason, and this was no exception. Harry moaned again when the vibrations increased, and another beautiful round of sparks surged through his body. “F-fuck….”

“You look so good for me,” Draco continued. “I love telling you what I’m going to do with you, your responses are incredible. Even when I tie you down and just fucking _talk_ , not even touch you, it affects you so much.

“The best is when you start begging. I tell you how much I want to fill up your pretty cunt, and you get so shameless. It’s almost like you know your worth, know that you’re just for this...just for getting used.” 

“I...I know….” Harry said, and he could _live_ like that, he really could...just be there, at all hours of the day, just in case Draco wanted to use him, wanted a warm hole to put his cock in. And if he ended up pregnant, that was his fault for being so desperate and slutty, wasn’t it? It’s not like Draco would care if he ended up getting Harry pregnant — toys are for using, after all, and Harry had a cunt, didn’t he? He was made for it.

“What a good boy,” Draco said. “Pity I can’t push past your cervix, that would be sure to do the trick.”

 _It_ is _a pity,_ Harry thought wildly. Draco’s words were lighting the fuses at the ends of the fireworks, and Harry watched, as if a spectator to it all, as they burnt shorter and shorter.

“No matter, though. I’ll just have to fill you up as many times as I can, so all my cum takes and you end up full with my child.”

The fuses were dangerously short by this point — if someone wanted to put them out before the fireworks went off, they’d better do it quick, for it would only be moments before it was too late. 

“Draco,” Harry gasped, but he hadn’t remembered thinking it before he spoke. He was so far gone; everything seemed like a fantastical dream. “Draco….”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, Harry, not a pretty toy like you. You know you were born for this.”

“ _Yes_.”

Harry was vaguely aware that his legs were shaking, but that was the least important thing in the world to him. What mattered was himself, and Draco, and the fireworks.

“Draco, I — fuck, I’m going to cum—”

The curling of Draco’s fingers inside him was perfect, the position and strength of the vibrator on his dick was perfect, the fireworks were going to be so beautiful. 

“Come on, cum for me,” Draco said, and if he had been attentive, Harry would have identified the intense genuineness and love — and _pride_ , even — that shone in Draco’s voice. “I love watching you cum, you’re so gorgeous, baby….”

And if Draco kept going, talking Harry through his orgasm as he often did, his words were lost in the rich explosions, the marvelous sparkles, the spectacular colors. Harry felt his cunt clenching repeatedly, maddeningly, around Draco’s fingers, which still moved inside him as though drawing out Harry’s climax. 

He knew he was panting so much that his throat was dry, knew his legs were wrapped tightly around Draco’s shoulders in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable for the other man, and Harry tried to care but found himself too immersed in the pleasure that roared through his body. All he knew was this incredible high — he wasn’t aware of the fireworks themselves, but they were incredible, dancing and darting and crackling wondrously inside him. 

He came down harder from this than from his first orgasm, and noticed how sweaty he was as he gradually regained clarity. Harry felt the vibrator remain pressed against his dick until he was twitching from overstimulation, at which point Draco lowered the intensity slowly before turning it off. Draco curled his fingers a few more times in Harry’s cunt before withdrawing them; he then spelled the wetness away from his fingers and transfigured a glass, filling it halfway with a practiced _Aguamenti_. He handed it to Harry, who took it gratefully.

“That was so amazing,” Harry said blissfully, still breathless. He couldn’t seem to make himself stop smiling. “Thank you.”

“I love you so much,” Draco said. “You are so fucking beautiful.” He leaned up on his knees and Harry sat forward to meet him. Draco’s fingers came up to brush through Harry’s hair, and they smiled at each other for a moment. 

“You’re fucking _hot_ ,” Harry said, and Draco laughed and kissed him briefly on the mouth. 

“You make me hard,” Draco said.

Harry laughed too and drank again from his glass; Draco refilled it silently without Harry having to ask. 

“What time is it?” And Harry watched as Draco shrugged his sleeve up and looked at his extremely expensive watch. Draco’d had it commissioned specifically; the face was bare except for a tiny black-diamond-inlaid dragon whose tail twined around the hind leg of a white-diamond stag. 

“Quarter to three,” Draco said, a tiny smirk playing with the corners of his mouth. “Why?”

“You know why,” Harry said, not as irately as he would have preferred. “I told you I needed to finish grading by half-past two.”

“And _I_ told _you_ that you didn’t,” Draco said, still grinning, and he stood up, pulling Harry with him. 

“You’re insufferable,” Harry said, a genial eyeroll accompanying his words.

“You’re the one who suffers, according to you,” Draco said. He cast a quick cleaning spell over Harry, kissed him on the temple, and began to assist in the buttoning-up of Harry’s shirt. “Since you get all whiny when I don’t let you cum.”

“No,” Harry said, holding still while Draco fastened his shirt up, “because you’re the one who makes me desperate in the first place.” 

“ _Well_ ,” Draco countered as he threaded Harry’s top button through its corresponding hole, “ _you’re_ the one who’s so cute that I can’t help but mess with you.”

Harry didn’t have a good response, and so he rolled his eyes again and allowed Draco to help him back into his Auror robes and pants. Draco, who had evidently tucked himself into his trousers at some point — while Harry’s focus was elsewhere, presumably — had no dressing to do, and often remained mostly clothed duing their sexual endeavors, so he turned his attention to Harry. 

They kissed; Harry felt the collar of his robes brush against his collar. What would people say if they noticed it? Cassie was sharp enough to notice and indiscreet enough to inquire, but incognizant enough to realize that she’d overstepped a boundary. Harry almost always wore the collar for at least a little while after his and Draco’s play (even at unrelated times) so as to not too drastically remove himself from his submissive headspace, but this situation did not necessarily present that as an option. But he didn’t want to take it off.

“Draco,” he whispered against the other’s lips, “what about this?” 

They leaned apart a bit, and Draco’s hand came up, his fingers tracing the leather. “I understand,” he said. “Which reminds me...I have something for you.” He smiled slightly and reached inside his robes, pulling out a flat square box, not quite the length and width of a sheet of the Ministry’s memo paper.

Harry wasn’t sure what it was, but based on what Draco had said, he had an idea. Likely some sort of jewelry, based on the box. Little presents, some of which were such things — jewelry or even a new collar — often made their way into Harry’s life: a little box on the bathroom counter after Draco had already left for work, a beribboned parcel snuck into Harry’s messenger bag….

It was almost Draco’s way of courting Harry, not that he had to. But it made things delightful for both of them, and it was a way for Draco to dote on Harry in an additional way that he, as Harry’s dom, enjoyed. Not to mention it gave them something else to do with all of the extra money they had.

Harry already knew that Draco spoiled him, but when he tugged away the cream-colored ribbon and opened the box, his jaw went slack and he glanced up at Draco in surprise. 

Draco smiled — not shyly, for he was never shy, but there was something there that was different from how he normally behaved. Anticipation? “Take it out,” he said, warmth in his voice.

Harry lifted it from the box delicately: a band, sized so it would rest just at his collarbones when he wore it about the neck, made of a single piece of white tungsten. It was not much more than half an inch wide, and there was no clear clasp, just a small line in the metal: a space between the two ends of the near-circle of the band. Harry examined it in awe. It had tiny engravings in the metal, vines and clouds and licks of flame, with a small, faceted blue-green topaz set on each side — the stones would face his shoulders when he wore it. And there, too, on the front of the band, sat the miniatures of a dragon and a stag, both encrusted with diamonds in a parallel style to those from Draco’s watch face. They were minuscule, so much so that anyone more than a yard or two away would see no more than a simple band with two small blobs of oppositely-colored diamonds. They were perfect. And….

On the front’s inside, the part that would be touching Harry’s skin, floated a single word neatly carved into the metal: _pretty_ , it said, in Draco’s finest cursive.

“Draco….”

Draco didn’t say anything, just smiled a beautiful smile at him, took the band from Harry’s hands, and, with his wand, set it around Harry’s neck. It wasn’t a traditional collar, not really, but not entirely a day collar either...but it was theirs, and that was far more than enough for Harry.

The leather collar vanished, indubitably sent back home to the drawer where they kept such items, and Draco tapped the new band with his wand. 

Nothing seemed to happen, but when Draco guided Harry’s fingers back to find the spot where the split in the metal was before, Harry found it to be smooth. He traced the perimeter of the band, feeling along the etchings for the opening of the slit, and he let out a heavy breath when he didn’t find it.

His widening eyes met Draco’s. 

“Do you like it?”

“I...wow, I love it….”

“It’s got magic,” Draco said, and that much was apparent just from how he had put it on Harry and sealed the metal, locking it smoothly around Harry’s neck. 

“What else does it do?”

“A few other little tricks that I shall keep hidden up my sleeve for the time being,” Draco said evenly, his warm smile filling Harry’s heart.

Draco worked in Diagon Alley, in a small store where they made and sold custom, made-to-order potions and spellwork. _For Those Seeking the Unique_ , read the smaller wording on their sign. Draco worked the potions and had a room in the basement of their shop where he expertly stirred and invented. He occasionally came home smelling like smoke or some herb that Harry didn’t know the name of; once, his robes held the lingering, acrid odor of what Draco explained to be the smell emitted by black swallowtail osmeterium. 

His partner at the shop did the charms and spellwork. It was a very efficient system, and Draco worked well with her: a brilliant, pensive young witch named Felicity. She always wore rose-gold bracelets that complemented her darker skin beautifully, and had a bright laugh that reminded one of being home for the holidays. She gave excellent hugs. Harry would have been worried about Draco’s affection for her if he wasn’t so certain of his husband’s disinterest in women. She was intelligent and insightful, and they were close with her — close enough that they knew a few of the finer details of their relationship.

Which was why Harry had wondered about the magic in the new band around his neck: Draco hadn’t done it, or he’d be able to feel his familiar magical signature on it. And though Draco was quite skilled with wandwork, this was something that he would ask of Felicity in order to be sure that it was done properly. They certainly trusted her enough for it, and wouldn’t be hesitant to tell her what the charms were for — especially if they were as...unconventional as Harry suspected they might be.

“Was it her?”

Draco nodded. “She wouldn’t let me pay for the charms,” he said with a fond shake of his head, which, Harry thought, really went to show how kind Felicity was.

Harry was happy. He touched the band reverently and stepped over to the wall mirror in his office, there in case he needed to check his appearance before exiting the room. Draco would be using it shortly, he noted. 

It was beautiful, the band, and would be easy to hide beneath the collar of his robes or even a simple dress shirt if he wasn’t at work. There would, of course, be no need to hide it at home. Harry couldn’t help but smile at his reflection, and it smiled back at him even more when Draco came up behind Harry and put his arms around him. He kissed the back of Harry’s head and Harry leaned into the hug.

“Thank you,” he said. “I love it.”

“It’s perfect on you,” Draco said, holding him tighter. “I knew it would be. You can wear it anywhere, it’s not conspicuous like the other collars. And it’s waterproof, won’t tarnish — nothing. And you can remove it if you need to, just tap the front with your wand and there’s a brief series of incantations, and then it’s off.” Draco listed the order of incantations, demonstrated once, and then the band was back around Harry’s neck where it belonged. 

“I’m never taking it off.”

Draco chuckled. “We thought you’d say that. But just in case.”

“And even if I did, I’d want _you_ to do it.”

“You’re an Auror, there’s not a chance I’m leaving even the slightest possibility that something happens and you can’t take it off. But nobody else can except for the two of us. You have to know the spells.”

“I love it so much, thank you. It’s perfect.”

“ _You’re_ perfect.”

Harry turned around and kissed Draco’s jaw. “It’s warm,” he said all of a sudden, having realized that even though the band was metal, it had not once felt too cold to the touch. 

“It’s the perfect temperature,” Draco responded, and he sounded as happy as Harry felt. “I’m glad you love it.”

“I should get back to work,” Harry said, knowing even then that he’d get little done, and he hugged his husband. Elation was a powerful thing.

Draco stepped in front of the mirror and corrected his hair with a spell, straightened his waistcoat, checked his fly; Harry watched him with a half-smile. They kissed again, Draco gently cupping Harry’s face before trailing his fingers down to the band around Harry’s neck. 

“We match,” Draco said, their noses brushing, and he leaned back and ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. “You’re perfect,” he said again, and Harry beamed.

“I love you,” he said. “Thank you, again.”

“Anything for you, love,” Draco said, pecked him on the nose, and turned to go. At the last second, with his hand on the doorknob, he waved his wand, and the papers he’d previously spelled into stacks flew back to Harry’s desk. Harry sat back at his desk with the papers from earlier and fished out the first exam.

“Apologize to Cassie for me,” Harry said, and Draco smirked and whisked out the door.

Harry put a check mark next to the second question.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this; I had a blast writing it. It wasn't supposed to be this long, I'll be honest, but I get carried away sometimes. What can I say? 
> 
> I also wanted to add that in this series, Harry and Draco have an agreement that Draco can take charge where/whenever he wants, but that he always changes based on Harry’s comfort level — just so people don’t think this was nonconsensual. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed. ♡


End file.
